The Helenable Collection
by Caster
Summary: A collection of slashy ficlets concerning various couples. Read and enjoy!
1. Reveal : NickGreg

A/T: As a LJ user with CSI-loving pals, I find myself writing ficlets for said pals. I thought you might like these as well, so lean back and enjoy some fun reading!

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. I make no money, only friends!

The Helenable Collection

Reveal : Nick/Greg : Written for x-sleeptodream : Takes place during _Killer._

**Who's to blame for what's going on / In the dark without a clue, I'm just the same as you.**

They think they're not obvious. They think no one knows they dated for three years. They think no one knows they broke up.

But in the relentless desert sun, Sara can see everything. She scrutinizes them as they work, a careful space between their bodies as if they're afraid they might touch. What would happen if they _did_ touch? She has a feeling she knows.

They would remember.

They would remember what it was like to be in love, before Nick was buried, and they're afraid they'll fall for each other all over again. They don't want that. Well, they do, but they don't. That's their problem.

The sun is indeed too bright and she can see their two dark figures in stark contrast with their surroundings. Greg's rambling, a clear sign that he's nervous. Nick's nearly unresponsive, an indication of his uncertainty. Sara wants to yell at them from where she stands watching, wants to say _Just kiss him! Just do it!_ She doesn't know which one she's talking to; possibly both, because they're both being stupid. She's never seen two people more perfect for each other, she's never known soul mates to actually meet, so to see them wasting it all makes her heart ache.

Greg's going on about porn now. She sighs. That subject isn't the greatest topic to win your ex back with.

She wonders what it would take to get them back together again. She wonders even more about who's to blame. Which one broke it off? Greg has always loved Nick; she knows that. She's pretty sure Nick feels the same way. Maybe it was a mutual decision. Maybe Greg couldn't handle Nick's problems _how ridiculous he would never leave Nick how could you think that?_ or perhaps Nick couldn't take Greg's constant worrying _Greg's always worried that's nothing new Nick would die before leaving Greg I don't understand this_. For an investigator, she thinks she must be losing her touch, because she just can't seem to figure it out.

Nick's rigid, purely professional, and she can see that Greg isn't quite himself. He's too peppy, hiding his sorrow. He has lost Nick. He recognizes this as he watches Nick, not the evidence that Nick uncovers; observes the man he loves in mourning.

She suddenly wants to hug him.

_How did they get this way this is worng it isn't fair to them._

Sara's reminded of how they began; long, wistful glances. Is that how they'll end?

Nick had been buried, alone and in the dark. The thing is that they're in the desert now, and he isn't alone anymore. The sun hangs above them, suspended by strings and gravity while the shifting sands reveal the clues.

She can't stand it.

"Hey Greg!" she calls, and she can almost make out his embarrassed expression as he turns around. He's been caught staring. She wants to say something about the used car salesman or the bad photograph, but instead she continues with, "Just kiss him already!"

Nick practically jumps up at this, equally as shocked as he removes his sunglasses to reply, and she can't say that she isn't startled either. Really, what's she thinking?

Her eyebrows nearly reach her hairline and she bets she could sell tickets to this, because Greg sets down his camera and grabs Nick's shoulders. Their lips collide. She had expected them to stutter their way through a "What are you talking about?" question and she's glad Greg hasn't lost himself completely. He still has that spark, that light, that determination to win Nick's heart. This time, he's just taking a more direct approach.

At first she's scared, because it looks like Nick's protesting, trying to break away, but Greg's insistent with his lips and Nick finally just gives up. Then she wants to laugh when they fall over, but that amusement doesn't last long, because they don't break away when they hit the sand. As a matter of fact, they're still kissing like they're each other's oxygen supply or lifeline or reason for existence. They've been separated too long and they're trying to make up for months of want and misery and desire.

She isn't big on romance or mush, but she refuses to watch soul mates tear themselves away from each other.

That's just pointless.

She quietly thanks the desert and it's unforgiving, harsh, revealing sun.

FIN.


	2. Breathless : NickDavid

Breathless : Nick/David : curledfries : Takes place during _Pirates of the Third Reich_.

It started out as sex. Just sex, nothing else. David supposed it was a matter of convenience for Nick, because David never asked any questions, worked the same hours, and was gone when Nick woke up. That's all it _could_ be; Nick was a gorgeous creature who could have anyone he wanted. In all seriousness, why would he choose David for a committed relationship? He was halfway decent looking if you asked the right people, but was he open? Romantic? Was he even _nice_?

David tried not to ruminate over these things. It only served to sink him even deeper, make him want what he couldn't have: an honest relationship with Nick. It was what he always craved, even from the very beginning. Now he had something like it, a resemblance, the ghost of what he yearned for.

He just wished he had _Nick_.

David paused as he heard someone ring the doorbell. He remained undetached as he checked the oven clock; this was usually the time Nick stopped by after work to… well, blow off some steam. David loved that he was the one Nick came to and the sex was equally as satisfying, but that's where David's pleasure ran dry. He didn't want to admit to his growing misery: the way Nick left right after he thought David was asleep. (In reality, David was wide awake and wondering when he was going to break things off.) He hated how numb he felt when women flirted with Nick on the job. He wanted to die whenever Nick accepted invitations to breakfast –bed?- with someone else, leaving David to feel like a worthless whore used only as a last resort.

But the worst part was the way Jacqui seemed to understand his anguish. Indeed, she was the only one who even knew about the "relationship", often saying _David, this isn't good for you. Tell him it's over_. David wanted to, because Archie, Bobby, Greg… they were all starting to notice something was wrong.

The bell rung again.

As much as David hated himself for it, he was at the door in a flash. When would Nick stop having this effect over him? Soon. Maybe even today. Maybe today, David would finally tell him off, make him find someone else to use. A line a mile long was waiting for the chance and it was only fair.

Perhaps he'd become his old self again (Jacqui would stop worrying), start enjoying time spent with his friends once more, and stop torturing himself over Texan CSIs. Jacq was right. This… thing was unhealthy and David hadn't felt this bad since he left Los Angel-

Oh.

David had opened the door, ready to free himself, but his determination dissipated the moment his eyes landed on Nick. The man looked trodden, hollow. David's mind immediately reverted back to their previous shift; he had caught a few details from Wendy, but work was hectic and they couldn't really talk. He did, however, know that Nick and Warrick spent their entire time in the desert. What the hell did they find out there?

"Nick."

"Hey David. Can I…?"

"Like you have to ask," David replied, stepping back to allow entry.

Nick shot him an uncertain smile and stepped inside, twisting a gray bandana in his hands as David quietly closed and locked the door behind him.

This was bad.

They stood there for a moment, cloaked in heavy silence, Nick staring at the rug while David stared at the wall. What was going on? Should he ask about the case or just go ahead and… get things started? Hell, maybe Nick needed a drink first. He wished he could read people better, wished he knew what Nick wanted.

"Can we talk?"

Ah. Perhaps Nick sensed that David needed a clue and offered one: the other man wanted to talk. David nodded before joining him on the couch. Talk, huh? That was always the worst word to hear.

"Sure. What is it?"

"I've been meaning to discus something with you," Nick replied, looking uncomfortable as he continued to pull at the bandana. David's stomach bottomed out. So this was how it was going to be? _Nick_ was going to end things? David hoped his expression wasn't giving him away, but _fuck_ this hurt. It was a deep, gnawing pain that went from his scalp to his toes. This was supposed to be easy. Effortless. No strings attached. When had it changed?

_It felt like this when we first started. You knew it would be this way, but you thought something was better than nothing and now you're going to end up with nothing anyway. Brilliant, David. Fucking genius._

"Shoot."

"Okay," Nick slowly replied. "Okay. Um… what we've been doing has been great."

Subtle. David felt his heart still and his hands clench into agonized fists.

"And I really like you."

When had his dream become Nick?

_Since you first saw him three years ago. Two months ago, he asked you out for drinks. You thought the entire team was going to be there –you thought they were starting to include you- but it was only him. _

_Remember how shocked you were? Then you were scared then excited then nervous._

_He asked you to his place afterwards._

_You knew what this was._

"But I don't think-''

"Stop."

Nick glanced up, surprised, but fell silent.

_You knew but continued this anyway. Now you have to be a man and deal with it._

"Just… stop and listen to me. I'm going to make this easy for you," David continued, praying he could channel some strength from somewhere. Wouldn't it be easier to just beg Nick not to go? Sure. But David had his pride –too much of it, sometimes- and he had been meaning to do this since the first night. No matter how much David wanted something, he wouldn't take it unless it was offered. He never _asked_. He never _begged_. He'd rather be alone than be vulnerable, and unless Nick _offered_ to stay, David had no intention of inviting him to.

"Easy for me?" Nick echoed. "I don't…"

"I'd prefer to just get it over with, so I'm telling you right now that you can walk out and I won't make things difficult. Work will be work. We'll exchange pleasantries in the break room. I'll run your evidence without being pissed and sticking it in the bottom of the pile. Easy, right?"

But instead of the relief David was expecting, Nick looked shocked and a bit panicked. David was, of course, slightly puzzled, because this was where Nick was supposed to smile and say "Thanks" and "It's been fun" and all that other crap. He wasn't supposed to look like his dog just died. He wasn't supposed to make this harder than it had to be. David had done his part; why in the world wasn't Nick doing his?

"You want to end this?" Nick asked, uncertainty and alarm lacing his voice. David blinked.

"Don't you? I thought that's what you were going to say."

"No, I- what gave you that idea?"

David arched an eyebrow. " 'What we've been doing is great and I really like you, but I don't think…' I got the impression, Nick. I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were. I was going to say that I couldn't do _this_ anymore," Nick continued, gesturing between him and David with his hand.

"_This_? You mean sleep with me?" David snapped, rising from his couch to go… where? He inwardly sighed. Well, he couldn't sit. He needed to pace, at least. Get rid of the stress. "Fuck, Nick. Christ, I'm giving you a free pass out of here and all you can do is throw it back at me. 'I can't do _this_ anymore.' You can't waste your time with me? You can't live with yourself knowing you shared a bed with me? If I disgust you then why did you even start this? Because you knew I'd whore myself out?"

"Whore yourself-?"

"Tell you what. Why don't you get out of my house and find yourself some Texas girl who'll smile and agree with everything you say. That ought to make up for the two miserable months you spent with me," David hissed before turning and storming into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. What the hell had just happened? He gave Nick an easy ticket. Why hadn't he taken it? _I can't do **this** anymore._

That… hurt. It tore at him, made him feel like someone was cutting him with an invisible knife. The only thing missing was the blood. _This_, as if Nick had been doing him some sort of favor and finally tired of it. David sighed and flopped onto his bed, sitting on the edge and resting his forehead in his hands. He'd flown off the handle and now he felt drained. He always thought that those songs about hearts being torn apart were bull, because the heart was just an organ. It pumped blood and had nothing to do with love and yet… David could somehow relate. His chest hurt where his heart should be and he idly wondered if Nick took that invisible knife and cut it out.

_Two months. It feels like two years. How could you let this happen? You knew you were being used and didn't care. You just wanted to be with Nick, just once, regardless of the consequences. _

_Now look what you've done._

_Why didn't you just say no?_

_Because you never wanted anything so much as you wanted this._

David heard the door open, but it didn't register until he felt the bed sink next to him. The body felt warm against David and in the corner of his right eye, he could see the gray bandana.

"There was a case today," Nick whispered. David wanted to tell him to leave, never come back, but Nick's voice sounded so shattered that he had no choice but to listen. "And it was so… horrific. I couldn't stop thinking about you, thinking about what I would do if that guy somehow got a hold of you. There were these twins sewn together and one of them died and I just… I don't know. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for being the way I am. Now I know, y'know?"

"I _don't_ know, that's the point," David replied. Why was his voice so empty? "You have to explain it to me. I can't keep guessing."

"When I said I couldn't do 'this' anymore, I meant that I couldn't pretend sleeping together didn't mean anything. It means a lot to me."

"And what about the girls you go out with, Nick? You think I don't know about them?"

"It was breakfast, nothing else."

"Why the hell not? It's not like you had to be monogamous. We agreed to keep it…"

"Simple?"

David felt his lips twist into a bitter smile. "Simple," he confirmed.

"No attachments," Nick supplied. "But was it ever simple for you?"

"Don't ask me that."

David felt Nick's hands trail up his arm in an idle touch.

_Don't do this. Don't let this happen._

"Was it ever simple for you?" Nick asked again, almost a whisper, hot breath against David's ear. "Even for a moment?"

It was a personal question and David had no inclination to answer. He didn't want Nick to know that the only reason he agreed to keep it "simple" was so that he wouldn't scare Nick away, so that he'd stay longer.

"No," he murmured, looking at the opposite wall. He could feel Nick's eyes boring into him. "Not even at the beginning."

"It wasn't simple for me, either," Nick whispered as he pulled David close, winding his arms around the other man's waist and resting his forehead against David's temple. It was strangely intimate and David was rigid for a moment before all but melting into the offered embrace. Was he meant to resist? He wasn't sure, but the heart he thought Nick cut out was beating in his chest again.

"I have an idea," the Texan finally announced, kissing David's neck and holding him even tighter.

"And what's that?"

"Let's abandon the simplicity thing and just… have a relationship. A real one. What do you think?"

Every time Nick kissed him, David felt breathless. Sure, it sounded sappy, but David figured he was allowed this one tiny thing. And at that moment, seconds ticking, Nick was kissing him like he meant the entire world.

And because Nick was always honest, David had a feeling he did.

Mean the world, that is.

Instead of answering with words, David just kissed him back.

FIN.


	3. The Anatomy of Flirting : NickBobby

The Anatomy of Flirting : Nick/Bobby : amazonqueenkate

They're sitting at a computer in the middle of the bullet lab while a database runs, and Nick's thanking Bobby for doing such a great job with the case. But Bobby's wishing Nick would just leave, which is weird, because he's got a huge crush on him and usually loves moments like these. He supposes this wish has something to do with the fact that Nick's put his hand on Bobby's knee in a purely-friendly way, only there's no such thing as a "friendly" hand on the knee. A pat on the shoulder? Sure. A touch on the elbow? Of course. But the knee was off limits, and Bobby must fight off his anger. Not at Nick, but at his own stupidity; more specifically, his feelings. He turns from the monitor in hopes to excuse himself –he also hopes Nick doesn't think he's being rude or 'ew, another guy's touching me!', but Nick will never be interested, so it's a moot point- until he sees Nick's face. It's disappointed. Bobby quickly turns back to explain… but words die when Nick smiles again, and Bobby thinks he finally understands what Nick means.

So he puts his hand on top of Nick's and squeezes.

FIN.


	4. Sun Catcher : DavidArchie friendship

Sun Catcher : David/Archie friendship : yuuyaku

Archie Johnson obviously had a death wish. It had begun as Greg's idea, a brilliant plan that went along the lines of 'Hey, let's get David more into music.' And on anyone else, this might've worked. But David Hodges wasn't just anyone else; even if he _did_ like the music they not-so-subtly stuck in his CD player, he'd never admit it. Two months later, Greg had no choice but to surrender to their looming defeat; Archie, on the other hand, had much more time to plot than Greg ever did. (After all, he spent hours viewing surveillance footage. Could you blame him if his mind wandered every once in a while?)

Three months later, his music list was becoming shorter and shorter every passing night. He'd tried Japan. He'd tried Depeche Mode. David Sylvian? New Order? All were placed into David's stereo while the trace tech was away and, consequently, all were turned into sun catchers. (David would thread the CDs with string and hang them in the main lobby. Accordingly, the lobby was beginning to look quite pretty.)

It wasn't until month four that Archie slipped Duran Duran's _Astronaut_ into David's Walkman. He didn't expect to succeed, but when he passed the lobby and noticed that another rainbow-colored disk _hadn't_ been added to their sun catcher display, he was curious. He passed the break room and Grissom's office to reach David's lab; he was disappointed that David was already gone, but there was a Post It attached to his CD player, obviously meant for Archie to find.

_They don't make my ears bleed._

Archie grinned at the words and hurried off to find Greg before the he left. He'd done the impossible; this _so_ called for celebration, and breakfast at Frank's Diner sounded pretty darn good.

FIN.


	5. The Diner Wars : David gen

The Diner Wars : David gen : pabzi

It was the lab rat's diner, too. Jacqui found it around the same time Sara did, and although both groups frequented Frank's, they rarely ran into each other. But David supposes all good things must come to an end, because he's sitting alone in a booth while the CSIs are taking up a whole table right across from him. To top it off, he feels like an idiot. If Jacqui or Bobby or _someone_ were there with him, he wouldn't appear so bare. Perhaps a book or laptop would do just as well, but as it is, he's just sitting there without any company besides the salt and pepper shaker. He sighs. He doesn't usually come here by himself –the lab rats mostly come together- but they couldn't make it and he was hungry and now Catherine's laughing about something. David grinds his teeth. They're probably joking about him, about how pathetic he is, and he hates himself for thinking any of them actually cared.

He's about to get up and leave when a pair of hands presses against David's table. He looks up to see Nick smiling at him.

"Hey Hodges," he greets, wearing that ever present grin.

"Stokes," David acknowledges.

"C'mon and sit with us, man," Nick says. "We can't stand to see you here alone."

And David's planning to explain that he was just leaving when Nick all but yanks him to where Warrick and Catherine have made room for one extra person, and he thinks he might as well stay since he's already paid for his meal.

FIN.


	6. Anything for You : DavidGreg

Anything for You : David/Greg : jaygoose

Greg always mutters, _For a friend, you don't really give a damn about me, do you?_ These words slice deep. He understands why Greg thinks this, though: David talks a big talk, but never _says_ anything. One day, one of the CSIs –David's sure Nick's already figured it out- is going to realize this.

David hates that question. He never tells Greg _I would've traded places with you when the lab exploded._

But they're friends, and David's so grateful for that. He can hang out with Greg without people questioning _why_. The only downside is when Greg says those words in an inquiring tone. _For a friend, you don't really care about me at all, do you?_

He never tells Greg _I would've traded places with you that morning. When those shots were fired at the crime scene, remember? Don't tell me you weren't scared then._

And sometimes Nick looks at David, wearing that knowing expression that reads _If I recorded everything you said today, and then tried to translate it into something meaningful, I'd come up empty._ He knows that when David speaks, it's smoke and mirrors. Not an ounce of truth. Not a sliver of significance. Just… air.

He never tells Greg _I would've traded places with you in that house with the mold. I would have gotten sick for you._

He never admits that if they were on the sinking Titanic, he would've given Greg his spot on the lifeboat.

He never confesses that if their lives were different, if it were six decades ago, if they lived in Europe… David would've given him the last seat on the last train heading to Switzerland.

Instead, he stays quiet by filling the lab with words. Vowels, consonants, syllables, and they all add up to zero. It's all empty; David talks, but he doesn't really say anything, and he just wants Greg to understand. And sometimes when Greg smiles at him, he thinks he does.

_I would do anything for you._

FIN.


	7. Sick Person Goodies : Pre RyanGreg

Sick-Person Goodies : Pre Ryan/Greg : flipflopadd1ct

It wasn't that Ryan was _breaking_ into the apartment… he just happened to be entering someone else's home while that certain person was unaware he was doing it. But he had a key, so that gave him extra points, right? Besides, he was carting around a paper bag filled with chicken soup, orange juice, zinc tablets, nasal spray, and tissues. That had to be worth _something_.

He shifted the bag into his left arm and extracted the key from his jeans pocket with his right. Sara had also insisted on bringing Greg Thai food, but Sara was working and Ryan wasn't, which meant _Ryan_ was bringing the Thai food along with the bag full of sick-person goodies. And it wouldn't have been so bad (he didn't mind doing the actual labor), but the problem was that he and Greg had never met. Ever. He'd heard of him through Sara (rock stars? Latex? Coffee? Those words meant something, he just wasn't sure what) but they'd never _met_, and now Ryan was entering a stranger's apartment with his Sara-given key, and it _still_ felt like breaking and entering even though she had promised, "Oh, don't worry, he won't shoot you."

How comforting.

The door swung open and hesitatingly stuck his head in. "Hello?" he called, taking a slow step inside. "Greg Sanders? Hello?"

There was no one in the living room, dining room, or hallway. The lights were off except for the large aquarium in the corner, and he wondered if Greg was even home. "Hello!" he called again, louder this time. "Greg? H- whoa!"

A blonde suddenly came flying from his room, wearing an old concert t-shirt, boxers, bed head, and wielding a baseball bat like a weapon. He seemed pale, had dark circles beneath his eyes, and spoke like a man dealing with some truly horrifying congestion.

"Who are you? How did you get in here? I'm calling the police!" he bellowed, pointing the bat at Ryan in an accusatory manner.

"No, wait, my name's Ryan Wolfe, S-''

"There's nothing to steal, so just back away!"

"Greg-''

"How do you know my name? Are you a stalker?"

Greg took an aggressive step forward and tightened his grip on the bat. Ryan, accordingly, backed away; he didn't fear the bat, but he _did_ have some serious concerns about how contagious Greg was. Ryan didn't fly down to Vegas just to get sick.

"Nonono, not a stalker. Could you maybe put down the bat? And take a few steps back?"

Greg pinned him beneath a suspicious glare, but lowered his weapon. Ryan cleared his throat. An introduction was in order.

"My name's Ryan Wolfe," he repeated. "I'm a friend of Sara's. We met at a Miami conference-''

"You're the OCD guy, right?"

Wow. It was great to know he had such a sparkling reputation. "Right," Ryan dryly reply. "She wanted to come by herself, but Grissom called her in, so she sent me."

"_You_? She gave you a key and everything? You could be an axe murderer!"

"But I'm not."

"But you _could_ be."

They stared at each other for a long, quiet moment before Ryan finally said, "If I told there was food in this bag, would you forget that I might be an axe murderer?"

"Depends. Are there tissues in there too?"

"And nasal spray."

"Nasal spray? Why didn't you say that before? Get in here," Greg said, tossing the bat onto the couch and heading towards Ryan. Ryan, although not usually so jumpy, practically leapt back.

"Wait a second, Typhoid Tom. How about you sit down and I take care of this stuff?"

"I see how this is. You don't want my germs."

"And Sara said you were so bright."

"If my sinuses weren't overflowing with mucus, I'd have a stinging retort for that."

Ryan closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. "Thanks for the visual," he said, but when he opened his eyes again, Greg was grinning at him. He grinned back, and once again they stood in silence, smiling like idiots. Ryan had to admit that even in his trodden state, Greg was kind of cute -_don't think like that_- and seemed to have a great sense of humor -_that's dangerous territory_. Greg bit his lip and glanced towards the bag.

"If I promise not to breathe on you, would you share some chicken curry with me? I've been quarantined to this place for four days. No outside contact except for the pizza delivery guy."

Ryan and he shared another smile. "Sure," Ryan agreed, walking towards the kitchen. Why not stay? He was probably already infected anyway, and there was no way he could leave a lonely man to fend off the germs on his own.

…

Back at the trace lab, Sara glanced at her cell phone. Greg hadn't called to lecture her about why it was bad to give his apartment key to people he didn't know; similarly, Ryan hadn't dialed her while cowering beneath Greg's dining room table, trying to escape Greg's bat-wielding wrath.

She laughed at what she'd done, although David later called it more of a "cackle".

She was a _genius_.

FIN.


	8. Torchlight and Chandeliers : DavidNick

Torchlight and Chandeliers : David/Nick : curledfries

"Quick, quick, this way, I saw him run down the hall!" Rick bellows, David and Greggory rushing to follow. The torches burn bright as they run, hearing the other men take various halls in what David knows is another pointless attempt to catch the Phantom. They've been hunting him for some time, but most were too afraid to pursue him for very long. He always manages to disappear. Always.

"I'll take this direction. Gregory, you go right," Rick breathlessly orders. "David, go back in case he turned around. Perhaps that's what he's been doing this whole time."

David doesn't argue. He doesn't want to hunt this man, and he certainly doesn't want to walk into any dark hallways in search for him, so he quickly returns to the empty opera stage. They've always tried to discover how it is the Phantom eludes them, and the thought of his going back by different routes was their first suspicion. There were never enough men to guard the halls and entryways until tonight, when the Phantom cut the curtain and stopped the show from going on. The men in the audience willingly agreed to help discover his location, and now the entire building was swarming.

Except for the stage itself. No one ever thinks he'd be dumb enough to stay in such in open place.

David's thoughts are disrupted by a sound, and he quickly turns, holding up his torch. There's a small flash of white mask. He knows he's in the presence of the Phantom, and his fear is minimal.

"I know you're there," David says, his voice even. "It's time to come out of the shadows, don't you think?"

He bravely strides to where the remaining curtains still hang. He yanks them back and sees the Phantom sitting in a dark corner, waiting for the searchers to leave.

"Boo," David says, holding up the torch. It's the first time he's ever seen the fabled Phantom, and he's surprised by how handsome he is, even with the mask. "I win."

The man looks up, surrounded by his black cape and opera wear. "Indeed you have. What do you plan to do about it?"

"Besides yell and fuss? Nothing, I imagine."

The Phantom rose from his position. "Do you want me caught?"

"Your mystique thrills visitors, but hampers my life. I've been in search of you many times simply because you insist on theatrics. Having you caught would give me a rest, thank you."

The Phantom grins. "Are you always so plain and boring?"

"Yes." Unapologetic. "Not that it's any concern of yours."

"No wonder you aren't wed."

"And I'm keeping it that way. Now sit back down. I don't plan on chasing you again."

He sits obediently, but grins lewdly from where he rests. "You're quite an odd man, aren't you? Don't you care to even know my name?"

"No. You've never told anyone, and I can't see why you'd tell me."

"It's Nicolas."

David blinks. Well, that was simple.

"And you're David."

David wants to ask how he knows this, but concentrates on how Nicolas is standing up again with an effortless grace that David envies. He's advancing on him, so David wards him off with the torch's flames.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," he advises. Nicolas merely smiles and takes the torch's handle from David's unresisting hand and dunks it in a bucket of water, the bucket singers used to hydrate themselves between scenes. The fire goes up in gray smoke, and it settles between them. David doesn't retreat when Nicolas steps close, lips hovering over his, and his voice is so… teasing.

"I know why it is you've never wed," he whispers, and their mouths meet slowly, hot and with tongue. David closes his eyes, because he doesn't feel as though Nick will hurt him, and he hasn't been kissed in a very long time. Nicolas' gloved hands wind around the base of David's head and pushes him closer, deepening it. It's dark and smoky, and with the loss of sight, David can almost justify this. Surprisingly, it's Nicolas who breaks away.

"You don't know what I am."

"I've lived here my entire life," David replies, but for some reason, his voice isn't clipped and their hands don't leave the other's body. "I know exactly who you are and what you do. You haven't hurt anyone. When you do, that is when I'll worry."

There's a clamor above them, and they both know the men are returning. Nicolas glances towards the doorway and then back at David, pressing his lips against the other man's before hurriedly parting and heading towards the back, to where he knew he can reach his haven in safety. David watches, impassive on the outside and buzzing on the inside as Rick and Gregory return.

"He was never here," David lies, answering before they can ask, and Rick sighs at their defeat.

Late that night, as David prepares for bed, he sees something on his pillow. It's a red rose, fresh and blooming, creating a sweet scent. He knows who left it, he knows why.

And he knows that he will see Nicolas very soon.

FIN.


End file.
